Recently, a former student reached out to me as she prepares to begin her teaching residency. She had a lot on her mind and heart and was looking for advice.
First, the fact that a student reached out to me more than a decade after leaving my classroom was incredibly meaningful. It was one of those unexpected reminders that the impact we make as educators can extend far beyond the years we actually spend with our students.
We spent time catching up, but we also had a very honest conversation about what it means to enter education right now.
She shared that her residency has been delayed as local school districts navigate funding challenges and uncertainty. Some of her former classmates have already changed majors, and she admitted that she has questioned whether she should continue pursuing teaching herself.
That stopped me in my tracks.
So much of my work with Acre Minds has focused on the educators who are already in classrooms. The teachers experiencing stress, exhaustion, and burnout. I hadn't really stopped to think about the educators who haven't even made it into the classroom yet.
What does teacher wellness look like before someone becomes a teacher?
Because many of the questions she asked me were questions I wish someone had helped me think through early in my own career.
“How do you separate work from your personal life when you care deeply about your students?” “How do you keep a student's behavior or lack of motivation from feeling personal?” “How do you navigate relationships with parents?” “How do you set boundaries?” “How do you recognize when you've done enough?”
At one point, I felt like I was talking to myself 20 years ago.
And I could see why she is drawn to education. She tutors students at her former high school. She advises college students. She thinks deeply about accommodations, relationships, and how students learn. She is already doing the work of an educator. She just hasn't officially entered her own classroom yet.
It would have been easy for me, as someone who experienced teacher burnout, to tell her, "Don't do it."
I didn't.
I was honest with her about my experience. I didn't sugarcoat the challenges of teaching or pretend that passion alone protects someone from burnout. But I also don't believe discouraging thoughtful, compassionate young people from becoming educators is the answer.
Instead, maybe we need to prepare them differently.
We need to talk about boundaries before burnout. We need to teach future educators that caring deeply for students does not require sacrificing themselves. We need to show them that education can take many forms and that making an impact doesn't always require standing in a traditional classroom.
And perhaps mentorship needs to be part of that conversation too.
By the end of our conversation, I told her we could continue checking in. Not because I have all the answers (because I don't) but because I know what it feels like to care deeply about this work and struggle to figure out where you fit within it.
I started Acre Minds thinking primarily about supporting the teachers who are already here.
This conversation reminded me that maybe we also need to think about the teachers who are still on their way.
